


Falling Snows

by RhapsodicSongbird



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhapsodicSongbird/pseuds/RhapsodicSongbird
Summary: On a routine job for the Ishgardian Restoration Front, Mayla Seawind, our Warrior of Light, finds herself back at a place of comfort and warmth as she surrounds herself with her Ishgardian family.
Kudos: 5





	Falling Snows

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, this is my first fic in, like, over a decade, so, sorry if this is a bit sloppy, I just needed to get this out cause FFXIV means so much to me and I love Heavensward so much.

My name is Mayla Seawind. I rode the ocean for years before running aground in Ul'Dah, accidentally becoming wrapped up in the realm's many troubles, and finding myself a part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn: a group of do'gooders that devoted ourselves to ridding the realm of eikons, gods which, when given enough ferver and crystals, drained the lands and their worshippers dry. However, this is not one of my many tales of just trying to do right by people; this is a more personal tale, one of a cold night in Coerthas during a break between the realm falling apart at the seams if I wasn't there to stop it. It doesn't matter when or how long ago.

On that night, I hadn't even planned on being in Coerthas. I had been in Limsa Lominsa, resting at an inn, when I was tasked by a simple merchant to ferry some intricate glasswork needed in Ishgard's See as a part of the Ishgardian Recovery effort I had joined at my friend Francel's behest. Not one to turn down a chance to help someone in need, as well as to make my job there simpler, I agreed without hesitation. However, once we arrived, the snows proved a bit too much for my caravan and we stopped for the night in Camp Dragonhead, a sentimental place that had served as my home for many moons.

As we stabled our Chocobos, we were in luck; despite the storm outside, the residents had crammed into the main hall and were having a roaring party. I had arrived just in time, everyone told me, as it was like a family reunion. There, at our usual table, were my dear friends of Ishgard; Aymeric, the new Head of the Houses of Lords, Francel, the local representative Lord of House Haillianarte, and Emmanalein, brother of a dear departed friend and successor to Lord of this outpost under House Fortemps. The usual business tables had been pushed aside for simpler, more hearty tables that would fair much better against the unrulier crowd, who I was all too happy to encourage with my repeating of certain tales a wandering card in Mor Dhona had taken the time to teach me. When my heart-brothers saw that I had dropped in unexpectedly, they usherred me to my seat at the front of the hall.

"We have yet more company, friends!" Emmanalein announced, lifting his mug of hot chocolate to the skies, to a rupture of joyous cries.

"To old friends!" Aymeric called as one of the bar maids retrieved me a mug of my own, "To warm hearths!" he cried as he spread his arms wide to those here with us, "And to the falling snow." he said as he motioned to the portrait behind us.

There, the visage of the man who without none of this would have been possible sat. Lord Haurchefant Greystone, perhaps one of the kindest, most compassionate, and certainly most eccentric souls I had ever had the pleasure of calling brother. Emmanalein had had his portrait placed after he took up lordship of the outpost and it felt right for him to be there. Too long had the spot where he had sat gone cold and empty. We made sure it never would again whenever we were all able to come together like this, leaving an empty chair under it, with a mug of hot chocolate kept warm all night long.

The night went on as one might expect: singing, dancing, more than a few fist fights over petty squabbles that always ended in laughter and more drinking. Meanwhile, my brothers begged me to share what marvels I had experienced since leaving them last, with not much to regale them with this time; rest never really comes often for the Warrior of Light, even if it's just making sure some people get a good day's meal and restful night's sleep. I took the time to tell them of the plight of Ala Mhigo and how I could feel that something was about to change, especially if Widargelt had anything to say about it. I told them of how having Alisaie brought back into the fold of our Scions had felt like filling a space no one had known was empty, especially since she knew how to keep her brother's ambitions in line better than I, getting a hearty laugh out of them, knowing Alphinaud was always quick to push himself too hard. It was always nice knowing I could always bring these stories to them.

Eventually, the night died down and light began leaking into the sky. We each took our time making sure everyone made it home safe, especially those who had decided that the warmth of their ale suited them better than the fires of a hearth and wandered out of the Camp. After everyone was settled and everything out back where it belonged, we grabbed our costs and made for the hills above. The snow had finally calmed enough to look properly pretty instead of deadly, even though I knew to still keep my wits about me and my footing firm. The trek was long, as it always was, but, eventually, we arrived at our destination.

Here, at the very top of the Coerthan Highlands, was a small plot and a headstone with an old, broken shield leaned against it. We sat in a circle around it, facing towards the cliffside. Here was where we had buried Haurchefant, where he would love to be most, watching over Ishgard in the distance. We sat, shared the same stories again, and set his mug, still hot, next to his stone. After a while, we all fell as silent as the scenery around us.

"...it really never does get easier, does it?" Francel muttered, his eyes getting misty.

"...no," I said, "it really doesn't."

The sun had started peaking over the horizon now, bringing Ishgard into full view, the clouds mercifully letting us see it today, and, there, that plot felt as warm as any hearth and we could all feel him there with us as the snow fell.

"But it's better to smile, anyway."


End file.
